Scott Dunbar

Just finished reading Townes’ biography, “To Live’s To Fly,’ by John Kruth, and decided to sit down and try this slowed down verj that me and Owen Bala been howling on.

I figure a song this good – you never want it to end; so why not let it stretch out like the endless road, and savour every morsel, while you damn well can! These were the first takes, but sometimes, (ha, right guys?), I get excited to share: what I experience as magic: those first takes. Like a pilgrim wandering curious and careful – and not a little disoriented – in a sweet spell of reverb, words, notes and rhythm that somehow means more than anything …back down on Earth.

That’s the steady rain on the roof of my ’76(?) 19 foot Winnebago Empress RV, red wine in my belly, and this little demo sounding out a spooky kindred feeling, floating all around and heralding a new, yet long awaited kinship.

It feels so good to get around to this book, to having my Townes phase, and this Austin City Limits photo seemed perfect, since I’m headed there in March to play at SXSW. Maybe some folks from there will hear this, and we can fall in love.

I hope you enjoy this sound, Dear Reader-Friend, even just a little bit as much as I do. For then, I’d feel like I’d done something right.

Stay tuned for more love letters, to you, and to all of Our Mighty Ancestors Of Song.

Haha – she was cut short here of the finish, because my macbook is from 2008, automatically snips youtube files at 10:00, or something.

DIY and proud of it, baby!!

….

A Revolutionary’s Love Poem:

Excitement courseth thro’ me

As hot molten steel pours

Into Swordsmith’s Mould,

And a knowing grin sneaks into my countenance, again

And again;

For I see clearly:

As Eagle knows,

O’er clouds

Sun Doth Shine

That,

Her Trials In Wilderness

Cannot withold much longer…

When Lady turns,

And sets her glittering blades and claws to work

The Vipers will not only be slain –

Her Awesome Battle Cry

Shall ring out! Into Eternity!

and be heard unto All –

Her Ministry, and Fellowship, Finally initiate;

For the truth and depth

Of Her Wound doth make her War Priestess and Goddess to all that suffer

In like degradation and shame;

Her Voice,

Her Strength and Cunning;

Forged by such epic Rise

From Darkest Labyrinth

Of most inconceivable, and vile fork-tongued treachery

And Her Righteous Fury!

-Birthed from dark crucible

Of foulest betrayal; and jealous, relentless leeching

Of Her Sacred & Holy Gifts From Heaven!

All of these Shall Make Her a Hero and Legend – Yea!

In Veritas:

In this Land Of No Legends or Magic,

There shall be Magic once more:

Her Wings are yet to spread,

Her Devastating And World-Overturning Fires,

…Are yet unlit.

Lion Of The Morning Purrs and flexes his haunches, cracks his shoulder and licks his terrible chops;

Likeswise yet untested.

The pure absurdity of words shall necessitate riotious laughter and be revealed by any attempt to approximate

In What Rivers Of Blood and Victories, Glorious !

They Shall Together Delight, and be crowned and toasted by Stalwart Comrades-In-Arms!

And by Earth Mother Herself with Feritility and Bountiful Harvests.

…Of their faithless birth families none shall remember, but that they were of The Olde;